IGMS Issue 8 (21 page)

"Why do you let them interrupt you?" asked Valentine one night, after they returned to their stateroom.

"They don't interrupt me," said Ender. "My purpose is to converse with them; I do my other work when no one wants me."

"So you're being their governor."

"I am not," said Ender. "I'm not governor of anything at the moment. This is Admiral Morgan's ship, and I have no authority here."

It was Ender's standard answer when anyone wanted him to solve a problem -- to judge a dispute, to question a rule, to ask for a change or a privilege. "I'm afraid that my authority doesn't begin until I set foot on the surface of the planet Shakespeare," he'd say. "But I'm sure that you'll get satisfaction from whatever officer Admiral Morgan has delegated to deal with us passengers."

"But you're an admiral, too," several people mentioned. A few even knew that Ender had a higher rank, among admirals, than Morgan. "You outrank him."

"He's captain of the ship," said Ender, always smiling. "There
is
no higher authority than that."

Valentine wasn't going to settle for such answers, not when they were alone. "Mierda, mi hermano," said Valentine. "If you don't have any official duties and you're not being governor, then why are you spending so much time being --
affable
."

"Presumably," said Ender, "we will arrive at our destination someday. When that happens, I need to know every person who will stay with the colony. I need to know them well. I need to know how they fit together in their families, among the friendships they form on the ship. I need to know who speaks Common well and who has trouble communicating outside their native language. I must know who is belligerent, who is needy of attention, who is creative and resourceful, what education they have, how they think about unfamiliar ideas. For the passengers who are in cold storage, I had only a half hour meeting with each group. For those who are making the voyage awake, like us, I have much more time. Time enough, maybe, to find out why they chose not to sleep through the trip. Afraid of stasis? Hoping for some advantage when we get there? As you can see, Valentine, I'm working constantly out there. It makes me tired."

"I've been thinking of teaching English," said Valentine. "Offering a class."

"Not English," said Ender. "Common. It's spelled better -- no
ugh
s and
igh
s -- and there's some special vocabulary and there's no subjunctive, no 'whom,' and the word 'of' is spelled as the single letter 'v'. To name just a few of the differences."

"So I'll teach them Common," said Valentine. "What do you think?"

"I think it'll be harder than you think, but it would really help the people who took the class -- if the ones who need it take it."

"So I'll see what language-teaching software there is in the library."

"First, though, I hope you'll check with Admiral Morgan."

"Why?"

"It's his ship. Offering a course can be done only with his permission."

"Why would he care?"

"I don't know that he does care. I just know that on his ship, we have to find out if he cares before we start something as formal and regular as a class."

As it turned out, the passenger liaison officer, a colonel named Jarrko Kitunen, was already planning to organize Common classes and he accepted Valentine as an instructor the moment she volunteered. He also flirted with her shamelessly in his Finnish accent, and she found that she rather enjoyed his company. With Ender always busy talking with somebody or reading whatever he'd just received by ansible or downloaded from the library, it was good to have a pleasant way to pass the time. She could only stand to work on her history of Battle School for a few hours at a time, so it was a relief to have human company.

She had come on this voyage for Ender, but until he was willing to take her fully into his confidence, she had no obligation to mope around wishing for more of Ender's soul than he was willing to share. And if it turned out that Ender never wished to take her into his life, to restore their old bond, then she would need to make a life for herself, wouldn't she?

Not that Jarrko would be that life. For one thing, he was at least ten years older than she was. For another, he was crew, which meant that when the ship was loaded up with whatever artifacts and trade goods and supplies Shakespeare was able to supply them with, it would be turning around and heading back to Earth, or at least to Eros. She would not be on it. So any relationship with Jarrko was going to end. He might be fine with that, but Valentine was not.

As Father always said, "Monogamy is what works best for any society in the long run. That's why half of us are born male and half female -- so we come out even."

So Valentine wasn't always with Ender; she was busy, she had things to do, she had a life of her own. Which was more than Peter had ever given her, so she rather enjoyed it.

It happened, though, that Valentine
was
with Ender in the Observation Deck, working on the book, when an Italian woman and her teenage daughter walked up to Ender and stood there, saying nothing, waiting to be noticed. Valentine knew them because they were both in her Common class.

Ender noticed them at once and smiled at them. "Dorabella and Alessandra Toscano," he said. "What a pleasure to meet you at last."

"We were not ready," said Dorabella in her halting Italian accent. "On till your sister could taught us English good enough." Then she giggled. "I mean 'Common.'"

"I wish I spoke Italian," said Ender. "It's a beautiful language."

"The language of love," said Dorabella. "Not is French, nasty language of kissy lips and spitting."

"French is beautiful, too," said Ender, laughing at the way she had imitated the French accent and attitude.

"To French and deaf peoples," said Dorabella.

"Mother," said Alessandra. She had very little Italian accent, but rather spoke like an educated Brit. "There are French speakers among the colonists, and he can't offend any of them."

"Why will they be any offended? They make the kissy mouth to talk, we pretend we not to notice it?"

Valentine laughed aloud. Dorabella really was quite funny, full of attitude. Sassy, that was the word. Even though she was old enough to be Ender's mother -- considering her daughter was Ender's age -- she could be seen as flirting with Ender. Maybe she was one of those women who flirted with everybody because they knew of no other way to relate to them.

"Now we are ready," said Dorabella. "Your sister teaching us good, so we ready for our half hour with you."

Ender blinked. "Oh, did you think -- I took a half-hour with all the colonists who were going to travel in stasis because that's all the time I had before they became unavailable. But the colonists on the ship -- we have a year or two, plenty of time. No need to schedule a half hour. I'm here all the time."

"But you are very important man, saving of the whole world."

Ender shook his head. "That was my old job. Now I'm a kid with a job that's too big for me. So sit down, let's talk. You're learning English very well -- Valentine has mentioned you, actually, and how hard you work -- and your daughter has no accent at all, she's fluent."

"Very intelligent girl my Alessandra," said Dorabella. "And pretty, too, yes? You think so? Nice figure for fourteen."

"Mother!" Alessandra shrank down into a chair. "Am I a used car? Am I a street vendor's sandwich?"

"Street vendors," sighed Dorabella. "I miss them yet."

"Already," Valentine corrected her.

"I am already miss them," said Dorabella, proudly correcting herself. "So small Shakespeare planet will be. No city! What you said, Alessandra? Tell him."

Alessandra looked flustered, but her mother pressed her. "I just said that there are more characters in Shakespeare's plays than there will be colonists on the planet named after him."

Ender laughed. "What a thought! You're right, we probably couldn't put on all of his plays without having to use several colonists for more than one part. Not that I have any particular plan to put on a Shakespearean play. Though maybe we should. What do you think? Would anyone want to be ready to put on a play for the colonists who are already there?"

"We don't know whether they like the new name," said Valentine. She also thought: does Ender have any idea how much work it is to put on a play?

"They know the name," Ender assured her.

"But do they like it?" asked Valentine.

"It doesn't matter," said Alessandra. "Not enough women
ruoli
,
parti
-- how do you say it?" She turned to Valentine helplessly.

"'Role,'" said Valentine. "Or 'part.'"

"Oh." Alessandra giggled. It was not an annoying giggle, it was a rather charming one. It didn't make her sound stupid. "The same words! Of course."

"She's right," said Valentine. "The colonists are about half and half, and Shakespeare's plays are what, five percent female parts?"

"Oh well," said Ender. "It was a thought."

"I wish we could put on a play," said Alessandra. "But maybe we can read them together?"

"In theater," said Dorabella. "The place for
holografi
. We all read. Me, I listen, my English is not good enough."

"It's a good idea," said Ender. "Why don't you organize it, Signora Toscano?"

"Please call me of Dorabella."

"There's no 'of' in that sentence," said Alessandra. "There isn't in Italian, either."

"English has so much 'of,' everywhere 'of,' except where I put it!" As Dorabella laughed, she touched Ender's arm. Probably Dorabella didn't see how he suppressed his instinct to flinch -- Ender didn't like being touched by strangers, he never had. But Valentine saw it. He was still Ender.

"I've never seen a play," said Ender. "I've read them, I've seen holos and vids of them, but I've never actually been in a room where people actually said the lines aloud. I could never put it together, but I'd love to be there and listen as it happens."

"Then you must!" said Dorabella. "You are governor, you make it happen!"

"I can't," said Ender. "Truly. You do it, please."

"No, I cannot," said Dorabella. "My English is too bad.
Il teatro
is for young persons. I will watch and listen. You and Alessandra do it. You are students, you are children. Romeo and Juliet!"

Could she possibly be any more obvious? though Valentine.

"Mother thinks that if you and I are together a lot," said Alessandra, "we'll fall in love and get married."

Valentine almost laughed aloud. So the daughter wasn't a co-conspirator, she was a draftee.

Dorabella feigned shock. "I have no plan like such!"

"Oh, Mother, you've been planning it from the start. Even back in the town we came from --"

"Monopoli," said Ender.

"She was calling you a 'young man with prospects.' A likely candidate for my husband. My personal opinion is that I'm very young, and so are you."

Ender was busy mollifying the mother. "Dorabella, please, I'm not offended and of course I know you weren't planning anything. Alessandra is teasing me. Teasing us both."

"I'm not, but you can say whatever it takes to make Mother happy," said Alessandra. "Our lives together are one long play. She makes me ... not the star of my own autobiography. But Mother always sees the happy ending, right from the start."

Valentine wasn't sure what to make of the relationship between these two. The words were biting, almost hostile. Yet as she said them, Alessandra gave her mother a hug and seemed to mean it. As if the words were part of a long ritual between them, but they no longer were meant to sting.

Whatever was going on, between Ender and Alessandra, Dorabella seemed mollified. "I like the happy ending."

"We should put on a Greek play," said Alessandra. "
Medea
. The one where the mother kills her own children."

Valentine was shocked at this -- what a cruel thing to say in front of her mother. But no, from Dorabella's reaction Alessandra wasn't referring to her. For Dorabella laughed and nodded and said, "Yes, yes, Medea, spiteful mama!"

"Only we'll rename her," said Alessandra. "Isabella!"

"Isabella!" cried Dorabella at almost the same moment. They two of them laughed so hard they almost cried, and Ender joined with them.

Then, to Valentine's surprise, while the other two were still hiccuping through the end of their laughter, Ender turned to her and explained. "Isabella is Dorabella's mother. They had a painful parting."

Alessandra stopped laughing and looked at Ender searchingly -- but if Dorabella was surprised that Ender knew so much of their past, she didn't show it. "We come on this colony to be free of my perfect mother. Santa Isabella, we will not pray to you!"

Then Dorabella leapt to her feet and began to do some kind of dance, a waltz perhaps, holding an imaginary full skirt in one hand, and with the other hand tracing arcane patterns in the air as she danced. "Always I have a magic land where I can be happy, and I take my daughter there with me, always happy." Then she stopped and faced Ender. "Shakespeare colony is our magic land now. You are king of the ...
folletti
?" She looked to her daughter.

"Elfs," said Alessandra.

"Elves," said Valentine.

"I elfi!" cried Dorabella in delight. "Again same word! Elfo, elve!"

"Elf," said Valentine and Alessandra together.

"King of the elves," said Ender. "I wonder what email address I'll get for that one. [email protected]." He turned to Valentine. "Or is that the title Peter aspires to?"

Valentine smiled. "He's still torn between Hegemon and God," she said.

Dorabella didn't understand the reference to Peter. She returned to her dancing, and this time she sang a wordless but haunting tune with it. And Alessandra shook her head but still joined in the song, harmonizing with it. So she had heard it before and knew it and had sung with her mother. Their voices blended sweetly.

Valentine watched Dorabella's dance, fascinated. At first it had seemed like a childish, rather mad thing to do. Now, though, she could see that Dorabella knew she was being silly, but still meant it from the heart. It gave the movement, and her facial expression, a sort of irony that made it easy to forgive the silliness and affectation of it, while the sincerity turned it into something quite winning.